


STARMAN: Lost

by mrwiseman (HowNovel)



Series: Hybrid [7]
Category: Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/mrwiseman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul and Scott travel to Auclair, Oregon. When Scott gets a job in a construction crew, he finds himself influenced by his booze swilling co-workers. Still brokenhearted from parting from Amy and his mother, he begins to find solace in drinking. Can Paul help his son find a way out from his grief before it is too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	STARMAN: Lost

Starman: Lost

By mrwiseman

 

©August 2013 

All rights reserved. This story is a work of fiction based on characters and situations created in the 1984 feature film and 1986-87 television series, _STARMAN_. It is an amateur publication circulated without profit for the enjoyment of fellow fans. No infringement of existing copyrights is intended.  
  
---  
  
September 13... Auclair, Oregon... Morning...

Jorge Mendoza kissed the top of his two year old daughter’s head as she sat in her highchair eating _Cheerios_. He smiled at his daughter, but his eyes seemed distressed.

His wife came up to him, handed him his lunch, and a thermos of coffee. Then she got up on her tip toes, for he was a good foot taller, and kissed him.

“Invite him to dinner, mi amor,” she said earnestly.

Jorge became downcast, “I have, several times. I can tell he is going through something...he wears a wedding ring, but never mentions a wife. I do not know for sure what is wrong, but he is at that place emotionally where he is digging deeper rather than finding his way out. I can tell. He does his work, but seems to have his mind elsewhere. I wish I just knew what it was that depressed him so much...maybe then I can help, Nita.”

Nita admired her husband and said, “You are an angel, Jorge. I love you so. Keep asking him to dinner. You understand better than anyone to be patient. Just be ready to listen.”

Jorge wrapped his arms around his wife, “You are the angel. I will keep asking, and I will keep a watch over him.”

Jorge kissed his wife one more time before heading out for the day. As he drove into _Davis Construction_ , he prayed that he be allowed to help the young man who burdened his heart. 

“Dios, please let me be an angel to Scott Hayden.”  
  
---  
  
_Davis Construction..._

“Hayden, you coming with us to _Sally’s_ tonight?” Rodney yelled out the window of his truck.

Scott shook his head and yelled back, “No, I have work to do at home tonight.”

“College boy, you need to have some fun! See you Wednesday,” Rodney chuckled and drove off.

Jorge Mendoza came behind Scott and said, “How about dinner at my house tonight, Scott? My wife had made a bunch of the best tamales this side of the Rio Grande. Nita wants to meet you.” 

Scott replied appreciatively, “Thanks, but like I told Rodney, I have to do homework tonight.”

“Well, I am going to keep inviting you until you agree, my friend,” Jorge replied and gave Scott a friendly smack to the shoulder.

Scott got into his car and drove away from the _Davis Construction_ building site. He and Paul had been in Auclair, Oregon for two months. They originally came to the town for Paul to work with a writer who needed a photographer to take pictures for his book. Scott, in the meantime, had found a job working construction. The money was fantastic. He’d also applied and been accepted at the local college. Even after Paul’s job ended, they saw no reason to move on while such opportunities presented themselves.

Scott glanced at his wedding ring as he drove home. Only a couple of the guys had asked him about it, but even then he managed to be vague. He was convinced Jorge thought he was an eighteen year old widower, or something equally tragic. Jorge was always trying to take him home to feed him or meet his family. Scott didn’t really care what anyone thought as long as he didn’t have to do any thinking.

The truth be told, he had spent the last three and a half months trying not to think of Amy. It wasn’t because he didn’t love her, it was quite the opposite. To say her name was to think about her, and to think about the person he loved more than his own life, and yet not to speak, see, or touch was more than he could take. It was easier to pretend things were as they used to be, just Dad and him running from Fox. Then again, it wasn’t the same. It never could be again.

For right now he was glad he had hard physical labor at work. When his muscles hurt, his heart seemed less pained. Scott was pleased to finally be able to make enough money to keep them living comfortably. Of course half of what he earned was saved in a drawer in his room at the small house he and Paul rented. On one of the rare occasions Scott spoke of Amy, he had insisted upon getting every dime they could spare to his wife. Every month Paul sent the money to Liz Baines, who sent it on to Jenny and Amy Hayden. 

For their safety, Scott still had no idea where his wife and mother had spent the last few months. He tried not to dwell on the nightmarish scenarios that sometimes crept into his mind. He instead tried to think of the “here and now,” but ached for the wife that he would not let his brain acknowledge.

As he drove into the garage of the rental house, he did his best to take things a day at a time. 

Paul was in the kitchen making dinner, when Scott came in through the door.

“Scott,” he said cheerfully, “I am making something called ‘goulash’...I like the word ‘goulash.’”

Scott smiled ever so slightly at his dad’s attempt at humor.

“Smells good,” Scott replied. Then he went directly to the bathroom to shower. Paul watched Scott as he walked away. He could tell his son was becoming more and more miserable with each passing day. Paul did his best to try to keep Scott upbeat, but Scott’s mood never improved. It was as if he was only going through all the motions of life. He simply would not talk at all, rather than even mention Amy. Paul knew that he had limitations as a father, and he wondered if there was some knowledge he was missing that a human father would use to make the situation better.

After showering, Scott and Paul quietly ate dinner at the kitchen table. Scott concerned him greatly. He was no longer the funny good-natured kid Paul had known. If anything Scott was acting more alien than Paul. Gone was the Scott cracking jokes over dinner. Instead, any dinner conversation always came from Paul’s side of the table. 

“You have your classes tomorrow, right?” Paul asked. He knew that tomorrow was Scott’s day off from work. He took three classes on Tuesdays and one after work on Thursday. Lately he had noticed Scott even losing interest in his studies, where at first he had tried to be so dedicated.

“Yeah, tomorrow is my day off,” Scott said and went back to eating.

Paul sighed at the response. Paul wanted to talk about Jenny and Amy, but he knew it would not be wise. If Paul even brought Amy’s name up at the table, Scott would get up and leave the room. He wouldn’t yell, get angry, or emotional. He would just walk away and not listen. Although Paul missed Jenny Hayden terribly, it gave him great pleasure to think of her and imagine how it will be when they would find each other again. He was confident that they would be together one day. He did not understand why it was not the same for Scott when he talked of Amy. 

Paul didn’t want to give up on conversation and asked, “Made any new friends from school?”

Scott replied, “It isn’t like high school, most people keep to themselves.”

“Oh, there has to be someone nice from work.”

“Yeah, the guys have been okay, I guess. There is a guy named Jorge Mendoza, you’d like him,” Scott replied honestly.

“Is he your age?” Paul asked.

“No he is older...about twenty –five, I think... he is married and has a little girl,” Scott stated factually.

Paul noticed that imbedded in Scott’s words was the implication that Jorge was somehow different because he was married and had a child. Sometimes it seemed that Scott wanted to forget he was married and would soon have a child as well. Paul was continually puzzled by Scott.

“That is nice, Scott. You can invite them to dinner,” replied Paul.

Scott felt his chest tighten. The idea of a domestic evening did not appeal to him. It was the main reason he had turned down Jorge’s invitations. It might evoke too many feelings that he currently had confined and controlled.

“Yeah, maybe. It was a long day. I am tired. I need to do some homework and head to bed early,” Scott said, putting his plate in the kitchen sink. Paul saw that tonight’s conversation was over.

Paul had no idea how to make Scott better and asked, “What can I do to help you, Scott?”

Scott looked at his dad. Although he tried to cover his grief, Paul could see it in his eyes. Scott schooled his emotions and replied, “There is nothing we can do but keep going...right?” Scott gave his dad a weak smile and went to his room.

Later in his room, Scott set aside his books, and lay down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He let his brain flood with thoughts of Amy. He thought of her face, sound of her voice, and how she looked in the morning. He imagined she was in bed next to him. He could almost feel her shift in bed and smell the shampoo she always used. He thought about how big she must be with the baby by now. It would only be a couple weeks until the baby was born. He would miss it. Scott would not be there to see his son born. In fact he had no idea when and if he would see them ever again. Their separation had not been his choice, and if they were ever to have a reunion that was out of his hands as well. 

Amy was now traveling in the world of his mother, and he had only seen his mother twice in the last four years of his life. He couldn’t help but think if he added up the time he and his mom had been together, they had spent less than 18 hours together in the last fifteen years. Was that his future with his own wife and son? As long as he had no control over his life, he had every reason to believe his fate was to be alone.

Then he scrubbed his face with his hands, to rub away the thoughts, and turned off the light. Shoving his feelings into the corner of his mind, he tried to only think about his Calculus test as he went to sleep.  
  
---  
  
Carter, Illinois...

Amy Hayden waddled to the front porch of the farmhouse. Jenny had taken the telephone out the front door to make her calls. As she came to the door, she tried not to trip on the taunt cord that led out the door, but jumped when she heard Jenny shout.

“I found her, Amy!” Jenny shouted, coming up to the screen door to meet Amy. “Dr. Ellen Dukow is in Iowa City, Iowa...less than two hundred miles from where we stand.”

Amy smiled and asked, “When do we go talk to her?”

Jenny laughed and looked down at Amy’s very pregnant middle, “You look ready to have that baby any day, so I think we go now.”

“What about your work?” Amy asked. Jenny had been teaching art at the local community college. The pay wasn’t great, but with what Scott and Paul had been sending and Grandpa Hayden’s house, they had been making it.

“I will call in sick if I have to...now let’s go get packed. I think we’d better plan to stay overnight.”

The rushed packing reminded Amy of her time with Paul and Scott when they ran from Fox. She had become quite good at tossing clothes into a bag and moving quickly. As she packed, she thought about Scott. Amy worried about him. She knew how much she missed him; she also knew his fears. Once they had vowed never to leave each other. Yet here they were parted. Amy imagined Scott would be afraid, but hoped he could overcome. For her part, she made herself busy waiting for the baby and thinking of when she would see Scott again.

Within the hour Jenny and Amy were on the road to Iowa City.

When they arrived at the _University of Iowa Hospital_ , Jenny led the way to the department where she was told Dr. Dukow worked. Amy had learned that even when she was nervous, Jenny Hayden acted with a façade of focused confidence. Even within a place that could lead them both to being discovered by Fox, Jenny acted self-assured. She told Amy that self-assurance was the best disguise, even when you were scared to death. When they reached the desk of the surgical wing, Jenny went right up and asked to see Dr. Ellen Dukow. 

“Do you have an appointment, because right now she is performing surgery,” said the receptionist, confused by Jenny and Amy’s presence.

Jenny replied, “We don’t have an appointment, but we need to talk with her.”

“I am afraid that without appointment that will be impossible. Have a nice day.”

Jenny Hayden had long ago stopped taking no for an answer, “I think...in fact, _I know_ , Dr. Dukow would want to see us. Could you take her a message?”

“As I said, she is in surgery,” the receptionist said snippily.

“Well she has to come out eventually...we will wait,” Jenny said commandingly and sat down in the nearest chair.

The receptionist reluctantly relented, “Fine...What is your message?”

Jenny thought for a second and said, “Tell her Paul Forrester and his son, Scott need her help again.”

The receptionist gave Jenny an odd look for such an odd message, to which Jenny replied, “She will understand.”

Jenny helped Amy sit down in a chair to wait, while the receptionist took the message back to some unseen location.

“Do you think she will understand your message?” Amy asked.

Jenny replied, “I hope so...otherwise you and I will have to make a trip back to Virginia. Cameron is the only other doctor we know who has knowledge about you and the baby...but I’d rather not make the long trip if we don’t have to. Besides, Scott trusted this doctor and wanted us to find her.”

Amy smiled, “If it is what Scott wants, then it is right.”

Jenny then smiled. In the past few months she had learned quite a lot from her daughter-in-law. Amy was like Paul in her honesty, good nature, and inquisitiveness. But, more than anything, Amy’s best quality was her devotion to Scott. She trusted his judgment explicitly. 

At first Jenny had thought such blind devotion a bit antiquated and maybe even upsettingly subservient, but Amy had explained it wasn’t _blind_ devotion at all. When she had first come to this planet, she had communicated with Scott’s mind. She had gleaned her knowledge of humanity from his own knowledge. She learned about him from his own brain. Amy knew Scott to be what he was because he taught it to her with his very own thoughts. Amy, more than anyone, knew the real Scott Hayden. Jenny grasped how with a melding of their minds, her son had gotten so close to this alien girl. 

They had waited for twenty minutes when an attractive woman in scrubs came up to them.

“I am Dr. Ellen Dukow. I received your message. How do you know Paul Forrester and his son?” she said guardedly. She was not about to be drawn into some sort of immature plot by George Fox.

“I am Jenny Hayden, Scott’s mother,” Jenny said, hoping that she could get this doctor to trust them.

“Come into my office,” Ellen said, motioning to a side hallway.

Jenny got up and helped Amy awkwardly rise from the waiting room chair. Ellen Dukow noticed and asked, “Who is she?”

After getting a very pregnant Amy on her feet, Jenny turned and said, “She is Scott’s wife...and that is why we are here.”

Dr. Dukow looked surprised, but immediately escorted them down the hall to her office. Once inside she shut the door and offered them a seat. Amy once again carefully eased herself into a chair. After they were all settled, Ellen Dukow patiently waited for Jenny to begin.

“Scott told me you helped Paul when he was sick.”

The doctor nodded, “Yes.”

Jenny continued, “You know why his case was unique.”

Ellen Dukow nodded again and said, “He had a nonexistent immune system.”

Jenny carefully waded into the important part of the story, “Yes, but you know why he had no immune system....”

Dr. Dukow tried to size up the two women in front of her. She knew Fox was sneaky and crafty, but she didn’t think there was any reason for him to send two such women to trip her up. Nonetheless, she wanted this Jenny to say “it” first. Ellen Dukow was hardly going to admit Paul Forrester was an alien to someone who could be just about anyone; like a channel 6 reporter or undercover agent.

“Yes, I know, but do you?” she said to Jenny.

Jenny knew she had to go “all in” and replied, “He is an alien.”

Ellen didn’t flinch, and Jenny was sure they’d found the right doctor both literally and figuratively.

“And what does that have to do with this very pregnant girl before me?” Ellen replied appearing disinterested, but keeping hidden her excitement of the possibility of being able to study yet another alien case.

“Can we get to the point, Dr. Dukow? My son, whom you know is partially like his father, has a wife who is going to have a baby. This baby will be special in a way that you alone in this whole building would recognize. Let’s just say George Fox wants this baby for his... research.”

Dr. Dukow made a face at the mention of Fox and replied, “I loathe Fox. What do you want from me, Ms. Hayden?”

“It isn’t what I want, but my son, Scott. He isn’t able to be here today with Amy because of Fox. He made it clear to me that you were trustworthy. He had hoped you would deliver his baby. Deliver my grandson, aware of any alien complications that may arise,” said Jenny.

“I am not an obstetrician,” Dr. Dukow protested.

Jenny replied, “In this case, I think we’d agree that knowing about my son’s heritage is more important than anything else. There is also something else you need to know.”

Ellen’s eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Jenny continued, “My daughter-in-law is like Paul. She is one of his kind.”

Ellen appeared startled, “You are saying ...Amy... is an alien?” Ellen looked at Amy.

Amy replied, “Paul and I are what humans call aliens.”

“Ever since meeting Paul, I haven’t been surprised by anything,” Ellen said and took a deep breath, “I have two more surgeries this afternoon. While I am there, I will set you up to have several tests...but don’t worry, I am well aware that you may have some unique results.”

Jenny interjected, “Fox is watching hospitals. He sent out letters to hold any patient answering to Amy’s name and description to be held while authorities are alerted.”

Ellen thought and said, “Well, you will have new name while you are here...Do you have a favorite?”

“I like my name already, but Scott had me go by Jenny Scott once,” Amy offered, remembering when they had to separate in Los Angeles while Fox’s men searched the city for them.

“Jenny Scott it is then,” Ellen said, getting up and coming over to Amy. She continued, “I promise you that you can trust me. I won’t lie to you... I do relish the chance to study you and to understand how your kind works, but I will never treat you like less than a person... that I promise. I learned a lot from Paul Forrester. Now come with me....”  
  
---  
  
Washington D.C....

“Damn it! I don’t care if we are going over budget. I want another wave of bulletins headed out to every, clinic, hospital, and medical facility!” Fox yelled red-faced into his telephone, “We are mere weeks away from the delivery of an alien hybrid that could be the destruction of us all, and you want to nickel and dime me...Have them out by Friday!”

George Fox slammed down the receiver.

“I have brought them everything they have ever gotten on the alien! They have data to last them years...that was my doing. If they had their way, they’d have nothing. And if they’d listen to me now, they would have two aliens and two hybrids to study. But no! Instead the world will be under attack before they will fully understand the danger, all because of a need for a financial requisition form!” Fox said more to himself than Agent Wylie standing across from his desk.

“Sir, the girl in Boca Raton checked out as legit, and as of this minute, there are no new leads...,” Wylie replied.

Fox glared at him and bellowed, “Find one, Wylie...if you have to dress in scrubs and wait in the delivery room of every baby born between now and the end of the month...and get me the damned requisition form!”  
  
---  
  
Friday...Davis Construction.... 

Scott was tired. At work he was building a reputation of being a hard worker. His co-workers had noticed, and he had developed some growing camaraderie with the crew. Nevertheless, he had never really befriended any of them. During the day they worked and kidded each other, but when work ended, Scott went home. At the end of the day, going home had become more difficult. It meant missing Amy’s presence. She had become so much a part of his day to day existence. 

As he arrived at his car, Rodney Ridgeway came up next to him. 

“Hayden! _Sally’s_ tonight...I won’t hear no,” Rodney said, slapping him on the back.

Scott decided he had no reason to say no tonight and nodded in agreement. It didn’t seem like a big deal to go once. He could use the distraction, and it would put off going home.

“I’ll see you there,” Rodney said, jumping into his truck.

Jorge, who had been standing nearby, looked concerned, and came over to offer Scott another dinner invitation.

“I do not think going drinking with Rodney is a good idea, my friend. Come over to my house. My wife is as good of a cook as she is beautiful,” Jorge said kindly. Jorge was trying to be a good friend, but Scott hesitated in starting a friendship that could only last weeks. He knew he’d made friends before under similar circumstances, but currently, Scott felt the need to insulate his feelings. Scott also could tell that Jorge was the type of friend with whom someone shared life stories. Scott knew he would not hold up well if he talked of Amy. Rodney was a safer bet. He wouldn’t even think to ask about Scott’s life.

“Maybe another night,” Scott replied, “Besides, I figure if I go once with Rodney, he will stop asking.”

Jorge worried. He could see that Scott was troubled, and Rodney’s solutions to such problems usually involved booze, drugs, and women. Jorge sent another prayer up for his young friend.

Scott got in his car and drove towards _Sally’s Bar_.

 _Sally’s_ was as Scott expected it to be: dark, smoke-filled, and blaring with rock music. Rodney and several others guys from work saw Scott and yelled for him to come over. A waitress, in tight top and short shorts, came to take their order. When she got to Scott, he ordered a _Coke_ , only to have Rodney order him a beer.

As soon as the waitress left, Scott leaned over to Rodney. He had to practically shout, but said as discretely as the ambient noise would allow, “I am only 18. I can’t order beer!”

Rodney slapped him again on the back and replied, “Kid, you do a man’s work, you get a man’s drink.”

Afraid of appearing immature, he accepted the beer when it was set in front him. Soon the group was laughing and sharing stories. Scott enjoyed listening and laughing. Although he hadn’t liked the taste of beer at first, he did enjoy how it soon made him feel. The alcohol anesthetized his thoughts and instead, made this world of smoke, neon, and rock music more fun than it had been when he had first arrived. It was a new kind of escape, and Scott surprised himself by ordering another beer.

In an hour Scott had emptied multiple beers. He noticed the fact his brain couldn’t be bothered with his reality, just jokes and laughs. Everything was funny. Scott Hayden was drunk, and he didn’t mind it at all. No one asked him questions, no one cared who or what he was, and no one reminded him of Amy. It was, by Scott’s current standards, the best night he’d experienced since Amy had gone away.

At midnight the after-work party had started to break up, Scott wobbled to his car. Rodney, who had followed him out, grabbed hold of him and chuckled, “Kid, don’t kill yourself driving home.”

Scott laughed, “Oh I can’t die in a car crash...I am magical....tried it before...nope can’t.”

Rodney really laughed then, “Oh yeah, kid?”

Scott looked at him as Rodney set him in his front seat, “Nope, my alien blood...”

“Sure, kid, your alien blood.” 

Rodney chuckled again and went over to his truck.

Scott knew he probably shouldn’t drive, but he decided he was probably just sober enough to get the few blocks home. Carefully and slowly he made his way to the drive of the house. Although he nearly missed the driveway completely, Scott congratulated himself for a “perfect” job of parking.

He fell twice as he came to the front door, and then dropped his keys. As he squinted to find them on the ground, the door came open and he was face-to-face with his very worried father.

“Hey, Dad,” Scott slurred. Scott tried to stand, but once again started to teeter. Paul quickly grabbed hold of his arm to steady him.

In such close proximity, Paul could smell the beer on Scott. He recognized the smell of alcohol. He was surprised. 

“Scott, you are intoxicated,” Paul said, shocked.

Scott laughed, “Yep, I am drunk.”

“Why are you drunk?” Paul asked, as he led Scott into the house and dropped him on the couch.

“Why?...because I have been drinking. Well I’m pleased to report that this took more than one drink. In fact I had seven....so I have proof that I am a little human after all. Alert Fox that he can skip dissecting me,” Scott laughed at his own joke.

Paul was not happy, and Scott noticed his dad’s expression.

“Don’t be mad. I made some friends...you wanted me to make friends,” Scott said, walking into the living room.

“I don’t think they can be good friends. You are only eighteen. I thought humans in this country could not drink alcohol until they were 21 years old. These friends also should not let you drive a car in your condition. This is not like you, Scott.”

Scott became angry and tried to get up, but lost his balance and fell back to the couch.

“Good. I am glad it isn’t me...because more than anything I don’t want to be me...Don’t you get that?!” Scott yelled angrily at his father. Scott was shocked by his own anger. He was surprised by the venom in his words. He was immediately sorry, but he was drowning in feelings.

Paul was taken aback. In the past months Scott had been sad, but not angry. In fact, in their four years together, Scott had never shown this much anger towards him.

Paul regarded Scott with a look of concern and replied, “Scott, you need to think about what you are doing—”

Scott saddened and, now calmer, interrupted, “That is just it, Dad, I don’t want to think...I don’t want to think about anything....If Fox comes ...let him...I don’t care anymore.”

Scott managed to get to his feet.

Paul knew Scott must care if he was to stay alive. Paul looked at him with acute concern and replied, “You need to care. You know what Fox wants to do—”

Scott interrupted again, “Kill me...cut me into little pieces...I really don’t care.” Then sadly and quietly, he muttered, “He has taken everything from me anyway.”

“Why do you keep acting as if you will never see Amy and your mother again....we will—”

Anger bubbled up again, and Scott turned to Paul. 

“Stop it. Stop it! I am so sick of you telling me we will be a family. We will _never_ be a family! We spent all those years searching for mom. Why? What good did it do? I had a family for one day. One day! I know it won’t be back. Fox will see to it... and if he doesn’t, then you certainly will. Maybe you can go away another fourteen years...take Mom with you for another fifteen...maybe you can take...everyone and leave.”

Paul was appalled that Scott blamed him and replied, “I want us to be a family, Scott. I am sorry you had to part from Amy, but we had to keep her and your son safe.”

“Safe...I am sick to death of ‘safe’... we give up everything, and we are still never safe! We will never be safe!” Scott replied with a voice thick with grief. 

Scott held on to furniture and tried to walk across the room. As he came near him, Paul looked into Scott’s eyes and said calmly, “Scott, you cannot go on being this unhappy.” Paul was heartbroken for his son and afraid he could lose Scott to whatever darkness he was experiencing.

Scott, who couldn’t bring himself to look back into his father’s eyes, sadly replied, “Go back home, Dad. Save yourself... leave me alone. Don’t worry, I am used to it.” Scott then walked to his room and shut the door.

When Scott said “home,” Paul knew he meant his star. Paul silently stood in the wake of his son’s words not understanding the painful human emotion gripping his very own heart.  
  
---  
  
The next morning...

Scott cradled his head in his hands while he sat at the kitchen table the next morning. His brain hurt. His stomach ached from retching. His body felt the pained pulsation from every motion. He remembered all he said and did the night before and was ashamed. Scott was especially guilt-ridden by the things he had said to his dad. As he sat and tried to drink coffee, he heard his dad enter the kitchen. Scott glanced up at Paul and apologized, “I am sorry for what I said and did last night....really.”

Paul poured himself coffee and sat down next to Scott. Paul sighed. He was relieved that Scott was a bit more like himself and calmly replied, “As I said last night, I am sorry you are unhappy.”

Scott got up from his spot at the table, and said, “It was the beer talking, not me.”

Paul raised his eyebrows, “That can’t be all true, Scott. You were unhappy before you had beer. You have been unhappy since we left Amy with Jenny Hayden. We need to talk.”

Sorry or not, Scott could not bear to talk about Amy or his mom. Scott became despondent again. He did not want his dad to continue to bring up Amy. Thoughts of Amy hurt worse than his blinding headache. While he regretted getting drunk the night before, he realized he had discovered it to be an easier way to neutralize the pain than the sheer willpower he had been using. He craved a drink even as he stood in the kitchen with a hangover. He decided the key was to not drink quite so much. He needed to be in control, but he definitely wanted another drink.

For now all Scott could think of was escape. Scott took a deep breath and replied, “I am sorry. I have to go to work.” Scott left with one last regret-filled glance at his dad.

Hopes of any new breakthroughs in communication were dashed as Scott left. Paul knew that nothing had changed. Scott still could not bring himself to talk of Amy. Last night Paul had remained awake worried about the right thing to do to help Scott; he knew the same thoughts would occupy his day.  
  
---  
  
Iowa City, Iowa...

Amy and Jenny had been in Iowa City for four days, and by the end, Amy was thoroughly tested and examined. 

Dr. Dukow had been careful to explain away any anomalies to lab technicians, but she was amazed on how few there were. Amy was by all accounts a healthy nineteen-year-old woman, nearly to term with a healthy male baby.

Dr. Dukow brought both Jenny and Amy into her office to tell them that everything was progressing normally.

“She is okay...she doesn’t have the same problem as Paul?” Jenny asked.

“No, she no doubt is more susceptible to germs than you or I...but she has acquired some immunity...no doubt from Scott. No, everything is normal. If anything, because Amy’s body is so young, it is far healthier than most nineteen year olds. But don’t get me wrong, there are always risks to child birth.”

“We have a few more risks than most, I suspect,” Jenny replied.

Dr. Dukow continued, “Speaking of risks. I carefully managed to learn that it was wise that we used a false name. A friend in obstetrics told me that your name has been programed in the computer system to trigger a full security alert.”

Amy appeared frightened.

“Don’t worry. As I said, I was careful, no one has any idea you are here. We now know that Fox obviously is out there waiting for you to show up at some hospital. We will outwit him, which is why I want you to go home today.”

Jenny was confused, “Go home? Amy has to be a week at most from having the baby.”

“I agree, that is why tomorrow I will be leaving for a ‘personal emergency’, and traveling to you. I believe you said you had a safe location.”

Jenny nodded, “So you will deliver the baby at our house?”

“I am not eager to home deliver the baby, but I think it would be too dangerous here. If we face an emergency, a smaller hospital might be easier to manage. I will bring some emergency equipment with me...but right now you simply need to go home,” Dr. Dukow replied.

Jenny gave Ellen their real address, since the one listed in the file was a fake, and Ellen committed it to memory. It took all the trust Jenny could muster to hand over their safety to a stranger. However, Jenny, like Amy, put her faith in Scott, and if he trusted Ellen Dukow, so would she.

For Amy, she felt out of control of her own life. She was lonely and scared. On the drive home she watched the world go by, and she longed for Scott to tell her the right thing to do.  
  
---  
  
_Sally’s Bar..._

It bothered Scott’s conscience to once again go out with the guys. He kept reminding himself to only drink one or two beers, and he would be okay. Scott promised himself to not take one more drink then he needed to feel better. Tonight he had one beer, when Rodney offered up a shot of whiskey. It burned all the way down, but Scott found he liked it better than beer. Scott had two more shots after that first one. He hadn’t considered how hard the two small drinks would hit him. It did not take long before Scott felt the numbness overtake him. 

He’d only started to feel the effects of the whiskey, when Jorge showed up at the bar. Jorge had gone home in such a state of worry, his wife had sent him to go get Scott and bring him back to the house. Jorge hadn’t expected to find Scott already on the verge of intoxication before the sun went down in the sky.

Scott liked Jorge and was happy to see him, but Jorge was not in a good mood. He glared at his fellow crew members.

After seeing Scott inebriated, he chastised the crowd, “He is only eighteen, and you let him drink so much. What is wrong with you?”

Rodney and the others laughed and ignored Jorge. Jorge looked to Scott and said, “Let me take you home, my friend. I can take you to mine for some good strong coffee...or I can take yours...but let’s leave here.”

Scott knew he had had enough--maybe a bit too much and was ready to go. Scott had enough self-awareness to know he would not make good company tonight and told Jorge he would go home. He waved to the guys and left with Jorge. As he pulled out his keys and walked to his car, Jorge snatched them away.

“No, you have been drinking and cannot drive. I will take you.”

Scott didn’t mind being able to sit back and let someone drive, so he agreed and got into Jorge’s car. He gave Jorge his address and then leaned back in the seat.

As they drove, Jorge was compelled to speak, “Why are you so sad, my friend?”

Scott said nothing. He realized he had failed to hide his feelings, and was embarrassed. 

Jorge continued, “Is it because of that ring you wear? I see you stare at it when no one is looking.”

Scott peered down at his hand. His eyes burned. Scott wiped his eyes before the tears could fall. He turned so Jorge could not see.

“Are you married?” Jorge asked to the back of Scott’s head.

Scott was tired of not being able to speak about Amy. He rubbed his face, to wake himself up, and said quietly, “Yeah... I‘m married.”

Jorge suspected there was a very sad story that Scott needed to share and asked, “And your wife, where is she?”

Scott inhaled deeply and said, “Away...we are going to have a baby. She is away to have the baby. She is with my mom.”

Jorge smiled, “That is something joyous, not sad.” Then Jorge said, puzzled, “But I don’t get it, why are you doing this to yourself...drinking so much?”

Scott wanted to be honest, but was afraid of his emotions breaking through, so he replied, “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Jorge pulled into Scott’s driveway. Scott was silent as he got out of the car. Then he remembered he needed to get in his house.

“I need my keys to get into my house,” Scott requested, leaning in the window.

Jorge pulled them from his pocket and, as he handed him the keys, he said “No more drinking ...please. Live a life your child would be proud of. If you need to talk...I will listen, but no more drinking.”

Something about Scott’s son not being proud bothered Scott. Shame crept up on him, and he was possessed by a brand new wave of guilt-saturated emotions. Scott walked away without saying a word.

Paul once again was at the door as Scott entered.

Paul smelled the liquor on Scott as he moved across the room, “You have been drinking.” Paul spoke calmly, although his emotions were not calm at all.

“Yes,” Scott replied and added, “but I am not drunk.”

“You mean you are not as drunk...” Paul was frightened that this was the beginning of a pattern of behavior that he had no way to stop. 

“Goodnight, Dad, I am not hungry for dinner,” Scott said sadly and went into his room. 

Scott entered his room, shut the door, and sobbed.

Paul sat on the couch, unsure of what he should do. In the past when he was at a loss for the right decision, he would turn to Scott. Ironically he wished he could talk to the old Scott to help him understand the new Scott. Now, however, Scott was inaccessible. As he sat, Paul longed for Jenny Hayden. He finally discerned why humans had two parents.  
  
---  
  
Later...

At work Jorge continued to campaign for Scott to come to dinner. Scott appreciated Jorge for trying, but he didn’t think he could take a familial scene. The escape of the bar did not appeal much more to him than going with Jorge. But at the bar, he didn’t have to think or feel.

Scott felt like he was drowning in guilt, losing more control, but couldn’t find a way out of the bottomless pit into which he had been thrown. He missed talking to his dad. A few times he wanted to talk to Paul, but he could not be the cheerful kid Paul remembered. There was also an unacknowledged anger that Scott did not want to confront.

At the end of work the next day, Scott again joined the guys at the _Sally’s >. He had avoided Jorge all day on the construction site. Jorge reminded him far too much of the cricket in the Pinocchio movie he’d seen as a kid. When it came time to leave, he left when Jorge was busy talking to an inspector. _

Scott once again vowed not to drink too much. One beer in, and it wasn’t nearly as fun as it had been the other nights.

Rodney had found some girls to “entertain” them. Scott found the idea demeaning. He missed sex. He was male, eighteen, full of hormones, and had been two months celibate. But for Scott, his longings were for Amy and not a random hooker. The whole scene made Scott a little sick.

At first, the three girls spent time with Rodney and the guys at the other end of the table, hands everywhere, and telling dirty jokes. Then Rodney found it funny to send the girl named Connie over to Scott. Connie was the exact opposite of Amy: older, rounded, with platinum-blond hair and inch-thick make-up. She reeked of perfume and cigarettes as she approached Scott. Connie soon succeeded in sitting on Scott’s lap, while Rodney and the others made suggestive jibes. Scott objected, but was ignored.

Scott started to feel like the joke, rather than part of the group. He tried to get out from under Connie, but found he was pinned in between two of the guys and the wall. He was stuck being uncomfortable as Connie ran her fingers in his hair.

“Connie, I’ll give you an extra $30 dollars to show my friend, Hayden here, a real good time. You will have to be gentle. I think it will be his first good time,” Rodney said, taking a swig of his beer and laughing boisterously. Several others laughed.

Connie noticed Scott was wearing a ring and replied, “I think the kid has done it a few times, Rod...he’s married....”

“Married...He ain’t married. He is only eighteen. Kid, you married?” Rodney asked, surprised.

Scott hoped that answering the affirmative might get him out from under Connie. So, he replied, “Yeah...I ‘m married.”

Rodney guffawed, “Well I’ll be damned...Where’s the missus?”

“Out of town.”

Rodney laughed again, tossed the money, and said to Connie, “Well then I guess, darlin’, you don’t have to be so gentle.”

Connie giggled and started kissing Scott’s neck. Scott did his best to wiggle away from her exploring hands. When she whispered they should go out to his car, he whispered back that he was going to throw up. The threat to vomit had been the perfect incentive to get Connie to move. Scott used the opportunity to extricate himself from the table altogether. Once free, Scott ignored the taunting to come back to the table. He made a quick journey to the restroom and once there, he did throw up. Afterwards, he looked at himself in the mirror. He could hardly recognize Scott Hayden. His eyes were dark with depression and exhaustion. His body was bulkier from all the work, but his skin was sallow. Scott turned away from the mirror, afraid his own gaze would convict him of the wrongness of what he was doing. Feeling desperate for that numbness, he made his way toward the front of the bar. He’d only had a beer which had just left him, so he decided he could use something more. He ignored his conscience, bought a bottle of whiskey, and exited the door. 

Instead of going home, Scott headed out to the park at the edge of town. He abandoned his car at the gate when he found the park closed for the night. Determined to get in, he grabbed the whiskey and scaled the fence. Scott found a picnic table, sat on its table top, and scanned the stars. One in particular caught his eye. He knew it well; his father had pointed it out so many times that his gaze was always drawn to it. It was the world of his father and his wife. It was a homeland that his humanity would keep him from ever seeing in person. 

Ever since he fell in love with Amy, he had been afraid that she would go back there and leave him, just like his father had left his mother. He had never told anyone that Amy’s being pregnant had been a comfort to his fears. He knew she wouldn’t leave him as a baby grew inside of her human body. He had never considered they would face separation on his planet. They got married so they could be together forever.

“I want to be normal!” Scott lamented loudly at the top of his voice.

Scott took two large swallows of whiskey. Tonight, even the liquor couldn’t cover his anguish. He wanted back Amy, his mother, his son, and even his relationship with Paul. He wanted to go to college, get a job, stay in one spot ...and not have to run from Fox.

He wanted to be normal, but it didn’t matter what he wanted, and he knew it. He was angry. He was angry at Fox for hunting them, killing Lin, and trying to kill his son. He was irrationally angry at Paul for being an alien, making him part of an alien, and for sending his Mom and Amy away. He was mostly angry because he had not had a voice in anything that had ever happened to him. 

Suddenly, Scott knew he was being childish and was all at once weary of himself. His mind knew full well why his dad had sent Amy and Jenny away. He had once told his dad that if keeping Amy safe meant letting her go back to her world, he would let her. But, he hadn’t known how much he’d come to need her. How could his dad take being away from his mother? How could he stand it? Scott took another swig of whiskey. When over half of the bottle was gone, his head started to spin. Scott laid himself on the top of a picnic table and stared at the stars being overtaken by clouds and wished he could fly away to another world.

 _All at once, Scott was in a room...he heard Amy scream. She yelled and yelled for him. Scott searched the room for a door or window...but none could be found. He heard the cry of a baby. Scott shouted to Amy that he was trying to get to her...but she didn’t hear...she begged for him to come to help, but he could hear her giving up faith in him. Scott desperately dug his finger nails into the wall and tried to get through the walls. He felt a drip on his face and looked up to see the room in which he was trapped begin to fill up with water, except it wasn’t water. He could smell the alcohol as the room filled. He was being drowned...in whiskey._

Scott woke up with a start. He sat up on the picnic table and found himself drenched as rain poured down. Scott let the whiskey bottle slip from his hands. He sat broken as the rain poured down. He could not go on this way.

“Scott!” a voice called out in the darkness. Lightning flashed and Scott’s water-blurred vision caught a glimpse of Jorge.

Jorge came up and said, “Come with me, Scott.”

Scott no longer had a will of his own; he had finally hit rock bottom. If Fox had come out of the shadows he may have gone with him. As Jorge grabbed his jacket, Scott followed compliantly.

Scott was put into Jorge’s car, which now was parked right next to Scott’s car. Jorge had clearly searched for him and spotted his car outside the park gate. Scott wondered why Jorge would bother. He didn’t deserve it.

Jorge got into the car, and for a moment, they just sat silently as the rain came down in pings on the roof and hood.

“What are you doing, Scott?” Jorge asked nonjudgmentally. He turned to Scott, who sat shivering.

Scott paused, his eyes red, his spirit broken, and then replied, “Man...Why... _why_ do you care?” Scott did not ask with any attitude, but was truly intrigued in why this man had taken an interest in him.

“Because seven years ago, I was like you. I lost my father to cancer, my mother to the bottle, and my sister was sent into the foster care system. I started to think I was the only one going through trouble. I got heavy into drugs and pushed away my friends and my sister. Then a cop named Oscar Nunez got ahold of me. He took me to his house for dinner, his church for Mass, and he showed me there was a world bigger than my grief. He showed me that somebody gave a damn. He gave me a family while I was missing mine. Then they became mine when I married his daughter Nita...and I have my little Estella. Life gets good again, Scott...you can get out of the hole if you take hold of the hands you are offered.”

Scott teared up and said, “You have no idea what my life is like.” It was a point-blank statement. Scott knew no one could understand what it was like to be him or his family.

Jorge agreed, “Then tell me. I will listen.”

“I can’t... that is my problem, I am not supposed to tell. I’d give you the power to kill me and my family...to destroy my world further. It has been destroyed enough.” Scott’s words sounded melodramatic even to his own ears, yet they were very true.

Jorge, confused, asked, “How could I do that? Besides even if it would be in my power to do so, I can promise you, I would never harm you.”

Scott glanced sideways, “You may change your mind. You may be frightened of me...of what I am.”

Jorge wondered how much the alcohol was doing the talking in Scott, but he calmly said, “I will not be frightened. You are talking to an ex-junkie who did things that he is ashamed of to this day.”

Scott took a deep breath and said, “Fine...At this moment a government agency is looking for my father, me, and my wife.”

“Why? What did you do?” Jorge asked, concerned.

“Nothing...that is just it... we have done absolutely nothing. It is because of ‘who’ we are that they hunt us...and that is what they do...hunt. Whenever they find us, we run for our lives,” Scott said somberly.

“Go on... I promise you cannot shock me,” Jorge urged, having no idea where Scott was headed.

“I know I can shock you...It shocks everyone. Once it even shocked me. How could it not, when I say my father is an alien?” Scott said, bracing for a reaction.

Jorge smiled, “He must be from Canada, because you’d be the palest Mexican I have ever met.”

Scott remained serious, “When I say alien...I mean alien...outer space...other planet. He came here over eighteen years ago, got my mother pregnant and left. Then he came back.”

Jorge smiled thinking Scott was telling a joke, but realized Scott was not laughing.

Scott took a long breath and continued, “Whatever, man. Most who find out think I am joking, or they get frightened. So I don’t blame you.”

Jorge considered the fact that Scott was more than distressed; maybe he also had a mental illness. If Scott was sick, Jorge felt that would be yet one more reason to help him.

Scott could tell that Jorge did not believe him and said, “I can tell you think I am making it up. I wish I was...Fine, just take me home.”

Jorge didn’t know what to say. How could he believe Scott’s drunken nonsense? Jorge started the car and turned towards the road. He then said, “Why don’t we talk tomorrow when you have sobered up. Dinner with Nita and Estella at my place...”

“Fine,” Scott replied sharply. Jorge had started down the hill to the main road, when Scott had an idea. He pulled out his sphere from his pocket. 

“If I am not an alien, explain this...” Scott said.

The sphere came to life and glowed blue in Scott’s hand. Jorge glanced sideways, taking his eyes off the road. If Scott had been sober, he might have reconsidered his plan, but suddenly in front of them blue lights rose up from the road.

Jorge startled and swerved to avoid the lights. Unable to get traction in the wet road, the car slid across and slammed with force into a tree.

Inside the car a bright blue glow that had flashed with impact, slowly dimmed. The blare of the car horn echoed into the valley as all else became silent.  
  
---  
  
On the side of the road...

The next thing Scott was aware of was a bright light being flashed in his eyes. His head was braced and his body strapped to a stretcher. He realized he was being loaded into an ambulance.

Scott thought he must be hurt, but other than his head pounding, he felt fine. Even with restricted movement, he could not perceive any broken bones. Then he tried to remember what had happened. His recollection came back in a flash. He had distracted Jorge...Jorge. Scott needed to know about Jorge.

He looked up at a paramedic, “Hey, where is Jorge, the guy I was in the car with...Where is he?

The paramedic regarded him, but said nothing.  
  
---  
  
St. Thomas Memorial Hospital... 

Paul flew in the door to the hospital. A call had come from the hospital that Scott had been in a car accident. He searched for the first nurse he could find.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where my son is? His name is Scott Hayden,” Paul said desperately.

The nurse busily moved through the reception area and pointed him to the desk at the back of the waiting room.

A middle-aged woman in a pant suit and too-orange hair sat behind the desk. Paul moved quickly over to the counter and requested the location of Scott. 

She regarded papers on a clip board in front of her, and then said, “The doctor will be out to see you in a moment. Have a seat.”

Paul had to know if Scott was okay and begged, “Please tell me if he is alright. Please.”

“As I said, the doctor will be here in a moment. He will let you know about Scott. Please take a seat,” the nurse said so unemotionally that it nearly maddened Paul. He tried not to imagine the worst, but it came to him. If Scott were severely injured or dead, Paul didn’t know how he could go on. Scott had become the most important person to him in the entire universe. He loved him more than his own life.

Paul glanced around the room. A few other families were waiting. In the corner a young woman was held by an older man as she cried. An older woman with a fearful expression sat next to her holding a little girl of about two years of age. 

“Mr. Hayden,” a voice said next to Paul. Paul looked up to see a man talking to him. Paul deduced he was Scott’s doctor from his medical scrubs.

“My name is Forrester...” Paul replied, but continued, “My son is Scott Hayden.”

The doctor nodded in understanding, “I have examined Scott. Other than a wicked hangover he appears fine. Which I think is a miracle. From what I understand your son was a passenger in a car that was all but totaled. The driver is himself in serious condition, but your son didn’t sustain more than a scratch. You can go back to room 4 to see your son if you like.” The doctor gestured toward some doors.

Paul thanked the doctor. He pulled his sphere from his pocket, and then started towards the doors, when he overheard the doctor talking to the woman he’d seen crying.

“Mrs. Mendoza, your husband has sustained several broken bones. Right now we are checking to make sure his head injury is not severe.” 

The older man asked, “How did this happen, Doc?”

“The passenger in Jorge’s car was drunk, but Jorge was not. His blood came back clean. As far as I can see, it was just an accident... perhaps the rain.”

“Can I see him?” Mrs. Mendoza asked.

“Not yet. Right now he is unconscious. He will need to have several bones set in surgical procedures yet tonight, but as soon as he can have visitors, I will let you know.”

“What bones did he break...his arm?” the older woman asked clearly frightened by the possible severity of the injuries.

“He has broken his collar bone, several ribs, his arm, and his leg...all on his left side. It appears that side took the impact of the tree. He’ll have a year or more of recovery ahead of him.”

Paul could hear the poor girl cry as he headed down the hall to Scott’s room.

Paul found Scott sitting on an exam table. Scott’s head was lowered when he entered.

“Scott? Are you okay?” Paul asked.

Scott’s head jerked up at the sound of Paul’s voice—his eyes red from tears, the hangover, or both, Paul wasn’t sure.

Paul walked over and hugged him. 

“Dad, it is all my fault. I was drunk...He wouldn’t believe me... and I distracted him,” Scott said, wracked with emotion. Paul did not understand and asked, “What happened, Scott? Tell me from the beginning.”

Scott took a deep breath and lowered his eyes in humiliation as he spoke, “I left _Sally’s Bar_ with a bottle of whiskey. The guys had been...well they were talking about my being married. I had to get out of there. I drove to the park, and I got so drunk I woke up soaked by the rain. Jorge, he has been like you, trying to...help me...He wanted to know why I was drinking, and I told him who we are, Dad.” 

Paul gazed at him wide-eyed.

Scott looked at his Dad, “He didn’t believe me, and I wanted to prove it, so I took out the sphere...But I wasn’t thinking...I was so drunk... I put lights...blue ones... in the road. Jorge became afraid and swerved. They tell me we hit a tree. _I_ should be hurt. I deserve to be hurt, not him. I’ve been so stupid and selfish.”

Paul could think up nothing to comfort Scott. He simply put his arms around him.

Scott asked his dad, “Could you find out if Jorge is alright. They won’t tell me.”

Paul remembered what he had heard and told Scott. 

Scott immediately went and grabbed his clothes. He checked the pocket for his sphere. He didn’t remember putting it there, but he somehow knew it was there. Scott quickly dressed.

Paul did not ask what Scott planned to do...he knew.

It took a few minutes to find Jorge’s room.

Jorge was no longer unconscious, but groggy and unable to move for the pain and various braces that had been used to stabilize his broken limbs. He saw Scott. After Scott introduced Jorge to his dad, Jorge said, “Hayden, my friend...I am glad you are okay.” Jorge grimaced in pain with every word.

Scott looked down on him and said, “Why? It’s all my fault. I distracted you.”  
“Then you put the lights on the road,” Jorge said, awestruck, “Are you really what you said...?”

“Well I am half-alien, and because I am what I am, I can do this,” Scott held up his sphere and quickly added, “Don’t be afraid.”

Paul pulled out his sphere and looked at Scott, “We will do this together.”

As the spheres lit, Jorge felt warmth grow in his broken bones. One by one, in each fracture, the pain seemed to recede. 

“What did you do?” Jorge said in amazement. Except for a headache, all of his pain had disappeared. If he allowed himself to believe Scott, he would think that all of his bones were healed.

“I just fixed what I was to blame for breaking. I’d have them retake your x-rays...,” Scott said apologetically.

Jorge moved his arm. Only a minute ago the doctor had told him the arm required surgery, and months of physical therapy. He had been near panic over the work and money he would lose, but now he removed the arm from its brace and flexed his fingers.

“How did you—?” Jorge asked, but then his head ached. Jorge leaned back into his pillow.

Scott shot Jorge a sympathetic gaze, “I can’t do anything about your concussion. The brain is a tough one for us to fix...I’m sorry, man.”

“So you are telling me all my other bones are no longer broken? You fixed them because you are aliens?” Jorge spoke like a new believer.

Scott quietly suggested, “You may not want to be so loud, or they may think your ideas of aliens are a complication of the concussion.” 

Jorge smiled, and Scott smiled back.

“It is good to see you smile my friend. You, and your father, are absolutely amazing. Now that you have my attention, tell me the rest of your story, Scott. I still want to know what has made you so sad, and about this government agency that wants to hurt you.”

“How can you believe so quickly?” Scott had to ask.

Jorge smiled, “I am a man of faith. The universe is always much bigger than one person’s imagination. So tell me your story...I think you need to....”

Scott couldn’t help but think that it was Jorge Mendoza who was the amazing man. Even hurt, he still cared about what was wrong with Scott. Scott sat down in the chair next to the bed. Paul started to leave.

“No Dad, you can stay...,” Scott said before his dad could exit the room. Scott thought his dad should hear what he had been feeling. Besides, he knew emotionally he may not be up to repeating his story later. Paul sat in a chair by the door with the calm serenity Scott had come to rely upon.

Scott began his story with his beginning. He explained his mother and his father from another world...How his dad left, how his foster family died, how his dad came back as a Paul Forrester, and all about George Fox. Then Scott began his tale of Amy. His face became lighter, and he smiled describing her. He told of how they became so close, how much he loved her, and his son. He then told the story how they had finally found his mom, and how she had left again...taking Amy. Scott described how he felt the fateful day that they had been made to split up.

“I have been scared most of my life,” Scott said quietly but meaningfully, “Not just of Fox or of being killed in a lab somewhere. Maybe it is the alien in me that has adapted somewhat to being on the run...My Dad is always so cool under pressure.” 

Scott gave his dad a slight smile. Then he continued, “There is something worse than dying for me. I think I am afraid more of being left again. I have had no choice in any of it. I understand that every time someone has left me, it has been for a good reason, but the result is always the same... I am alone. I don’t know how to run alone. I can’t get away in a space craft like my dad and Amy. I can’t fade into the background like my human mom. Since my dad came back, I lived with the belief we’d find a way, despite Fox’s search, to be together...as a family. It is what made running okay, you know....”

Scott felt tears being to sting his eyes. He fought them and went on, “I stupidly thought if Amy and I got married, she couldn’t leave. Then I thought the baby would keep her here on the planet. She was the one person I was sure about. I mean I love my Dad, but he left before...I know he doesn’t want to leave, but what if he can’t help it...like before.” Scott glanced at his dad. His look broke Paul’s heart. 

Paul never understood fully the deep wound that had been left in Scott by his fourteen year absence. Paul had hoped that the past four years had made up for all of it, but now he came to terms with the fact that it had not. He had learned that in humans their emotions could be scarred much like their flesh. He had seen it in so many of the people that he and Scott had met. He had not considered that Scott’s emotional wounds had never healed. With every loss, Scott was cut deeply again and again. Parting from Amy and Jenny had produced a particularly deep wound. 

Scott continued, “Then there is my mom. I was afraid to even hope to see her again. Can you believe I expected to be disappointed? Then three months ago, we finally did it. We found my mom. I thought...we’d won. Fox could chase us, but we were together. Once again, she went away and took Amy with her...my ‘sure thing’. You have to understand, I no longer have any hope. I cannot count on anything or anyone. I can’t stand to think about Amy...I don’t think I can... _live_... without her. 

Paul tried to find the right words to comfort Scott, but Jorge replied first, “You avoided talking about your wife, and you drank so you would not feel pain...How has that worked out?”

Scott shook his head, “It hasn’t. I keep making things worse.” He was so ashamed. Scott looked at his dad, whose face had creased with worry. Scott hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, but he had. He’d hurt Paul as well as himself.

Jorge replied, “For me…it was cocaine...It only made things worse. I became my own biggest problem. I was unable to see what I did have. I had a sister, who may have been in a foster family, but she was out there counting on me. I had a mother, who may have been hospitalized, but I could love her...even if I could not help her. Then I had Oscar, who told me there was a plan for me in this universe. I had a purpose. Maybe my purpose is you. Maybe I went through it all to help you. Maybe you are going through it all to help that son of yours. You say you are alone...that your dad and wife can leave...and your human mom can disappear, but you are forgetting someone. You are to have a son. He will need you. He, like you, is stuck on this planet. He will need you like you have needed your father. _He_ is your hope, Scott. Live for him. You have a purpose now...do right by him. He is counting on you to one day find him the way you have waited to find your family. Do not let him down. It isn’t just about you anymore.” 

Paul spoke up, “Scott, you are right about something you said to me. We parted from Jenny and Amy to keep them safe, but we are never safe. I am becoming more aware that time is finite for humans. Tonight, I was afraid about having lost you. Time apart is time wasted. Since we have no guarantees, it would be best if we were altogether...you and I, Amy and Jenny. So, we will leave here today and go find them. We will not let Fox take our family from us...we will win.” 

Scott walked over to his dad, a smile breaking through the sadness. Paul stood and gave his son a hug. As Paul hugged his son, Scott replied, “Thank you...Dad.”

Scott then turned to Jorge.

Jorge smiled at Scott, “See my friend...hope lives...go find your hope.”

Scott leaned in and hugged Jorge.

“One day I will show up on your doorstep for those world class tamales,” Scott said with a chuckle.

“You’d better, my friend, and bring your family....all of them.” 

Soon the room was filled with Jorge’s concerned, and then celebratory family members. Paul and Scott stayed long enough to meet everyone. When Scott saw Jorge’s family he saw a family worthy of emulation. It fascinated him that Jorge had at one time been in his own bottomless pit, yet today had found real happiness. That alone gave Scott a renewed sense of hope.

The doctor was flabbergasted by Jorge’s recovery and declared that after a night of monitoring his concussion, he may be able to go home the next day.

“Were you visited by angels or something?” the doctor asked, implying a miracle had taken place.

Jorge regarded Scott and Paul and said with a knowing grin, “Yeah, something a lot like angels....”

Paul and Scott left as a second wave of celebration broke out in the hospital room.  
  
---  
  
Back at the house...

“We need to talk, Scott,” Paul said as they arrived at their house. 

Scott took a deep breath, and for a moment Paul feared that Scott would once again run away from talking about their problems. Instead, Scott nodded.

Paul took advantage of the chance and said, “I think today I realized how much how we live has hurt you. I find that I am still learning about what it means to be human, and about being a father. I am sorry, Scott, if I have failed you.”

“Dad,” Scott said sitting down on the couch, “You haven’t been the failure around here. I have. You never meant to hurt me. I know that. It is just---”

“What Scott? Please, tell me...,” Paul entreated, “You have been angry with me. How can I fix it if I do not know what to fix?” Paul’s voice held a touch of desperation. He truly wanted to make sure Scott could heal his emotional wounds.

Scott regarded his dad. He knew his dad didn’t have a bad intention in his copied body. No matter from where the anger he had felt had bubbled up, he knew that his father didn’t deserve it. Scott took a breath and hoped Paul could understand the tumult of emotions that had been occurring within him.

Scott peered down to the ground, “If I was angry, it was about how my life seems out of my control.” Scott hesitated. He hoped he did not say the wrong thing and make things worse between him and his dad. He turned directly to look at his dad and saw Paul waiting for him to go on. Scott continued, “I know it isn’t your fault...not really. It is like I said, I have no control. I have had no choice, especially about Virginia. Neither Amy nor I had a say in what took place in Virginia. We were told... _You_ told us.”

Paul tried to understand, but replied with his “logical” tone, “It was to keep Amy and Jenny Hayden safe. It was the best plan.”

Scott took his hand through his hair and replied calmly, “It was _your_ plan... _you_ decided. Now that I can think right, I can see it was probably the best plan at that moment. But you got to see from Amy’s and my point of view...we didn’t get a say. You decided, and then told us as we came out of the hotel. I haven’t had much choice in my life...what I am...who my parents are...being on the run. Those were all chosen for me. I have made one choice... I chose Amy. I made a promise to Amy...and I broke my promise.”

Scott dropped his head and looked away. 

“I understand,” Paul said, as he finally started to comprehend. “I took your choice away, and I made you break your promise to not leave Amy. I understand why it was so painful for you to hear me talk about Amy. I made her go away and then kept reminding you of her.”

Scott went on, “I guess, down deep, I thought if I didn’t have a choice to be separated from her, why would I ever think I’d have a say in being with her again? It was less painful just to not think or talk about Amy.” 

Paul put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, “I am sorry Scott. I am still learning to be a father, especially a father to an adult son. I am used to making the decisions, but I see now that needs to change. I am sorry.”

Scott hugged his dad. He remembered his immature behavior and said, “I am the one who should be sorry, Dad... for what I must have been putting you through. I know, now that my head is on right, that you were doing your best. If we had talked, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

Paul smiled and considered his son, “I am glad to have not lost you. You are my son, and I love you. You are my hope.”

Scott hugged his Dad again.

“No more drinking, I promise...and Dad... I don’t want you to leave again. I wanted to tell you that after what I had said the other night.”

Paul replied, “I know. I will tell you that I am not going to leave again. My home is now here with you and Jenny Hayden...with Amy and my grandson. I promise you, as long as I have a choice, I am not going to leave you again. I also need to tell you that Jenny Hayden agreed to marry me. I will make that same promise to her when we find her again. I should have told you sooner...given you that as a part of your hope.”

“Really?” Scott said, grinning widely, “You and Mom are going to get married?”

Paul grinned back, “She said ‘yes.’”

Scott chuckled, “When it rains ‘hope,’ it sure pours...”

Paul did not get the humor in Scott’s comment, but he understood the sentiment. He chuckled and started packing. Scott thought it felt odd not having to pack their things in a hurry. This time they were choosing to leave, not running. It was empowering to Scott’s spirit. Scott felt the spark of hope.

Later on the road, they decided to aim their car toward the Midwest. Scott remembered his mom saying she was going to take them to the late Scott Hayden’s father’s house to hide. Scott imagined she must have taken Amy there.

Paul sent a message to Liz Baines for her help. They let her know they would be in Chicago quickly. Both Paul and Scott were optimistic they would reunite their family within a matter of days.

As mountains became hills, and then wide-open land, Paul glanced over at Scott driving. His eyes focused on the road ahead. His face held within a glow of exuberance. The morning sun shone on Scott’s face, and for a split second, he was that fourteen-year-old boy Paul remembered. He had that wonder back, and Paul knew he had his son again. Paul could not help but think that this human thing called “hope” was alive and well.  
  
---  
  
AuClair, Oregon... _Davis Construction_...

“I am looking for a young man named Scott Hayden. He may be traveling with a man named Paul Forrester. He may also have a pregnant girl with them calling herself Amy Hayden or Amy Parker,” George Fox said, holding up pictures of Paul and Scott. “I was told by the hospital, that you were in a car accident with a Scott Hayden about two weeks ago. Do you know where Scott Hayden is now?”

Jorge Mendoza shook his head as he got into his car to go home, “I have no idea where he is, and I only met his father once.”

“Did he say anything to indicate where he was going...a town, a city, any place?” Fox entreated.

“No, I was in the hospital for a couple days, and he left before I got out,” Jorge replied and started to close his car door, but Fox held tight to the door and kept it open.

“From what I understand, you were admitted to the hospital with severe injuries... yet you left with a mild concussion. How do you explain that, Mr. Mendoza?”

Jorge remembered all that Scott had told him about this Fox. It was obvious the agent thought Scott or Paul had healed his injuries. Yet, as he stood outside the car, Jorge could see Fox’s disdain for the two he hunted. It was as if he saw maliciousness behind what Jorge had deemed a miracle and a gift. Jorge smiled meaningfully, “How do you explain it, Agent Fox?”

There was something in Jorge Mendoza’s tone that said he knew all, or at least thought he knew something. Fox replied, “What did he tell you about himself? Whatever it was, don’t believe him, Mr. Mendoza. You came face to face with the enemy... in fact the enemy of all mankind.”

“I don’t think so, Agent Fox. It seems that mankind has found a friend rather than an enemy. Or once again, I ask you, how do _you_ explain my remarkable recovery?”

Fox was taken aback by Jorge’s challenge, and barked, “A trick...or a payment for silence.”

Jorge laughed, “A trick...for what purpose? As to my silence, I am hardly silent. I have told you the truth. You need to reconsider your belief that they are the enemy of mankind, especially when they have only shown humanity peace....healing, no less. ”

“You’re a fool, Mr. Mendoza. Do you think the enemy will announce their evil intentions?”

“No, of course not, but I would suggest that you are the blind man when you ignore the proof of their kindness in front of your own eyes. You have hunted them and only have met person after person whose experiences with them have told you there is no enemy to be found in Paul or Scott. Yet you do not believe. You hunt doves as if they were grizzly bears. Who is the real fool, Agent Fox?”

Fox released his hold on the car door, and Jorge shut it.

Jorge left Fox with one more thing and spoke out the window, “Agent Fox, if you continue on this path, it will be you who will be lost. Lost in your own foolish obsession....”

Jorge then drove away, not waiting for Fox’s reply.

For a moment Fox considered what Jorge Mendoza had said to him, but quickly dismissed them as the ranting of yet another victim of this alien version of Stockholm syndrome. Fox then imagined himself as something similar to a character from Greek mythology. He was someone given the gift of foresight only to be given a curse of never to be believed.

“If they don’t see the war coming, then I will have to prepare for the disaster on my own,” Fox mumbled. If Jorge had been there to hear him, he would have seen no hope in saving George Fox from his obsession....he was already lost.

** _________________________The End______________________________________ **

Author’s Note:

I knew when I began writing for STARMAN that my stories would probably be read by only those select folks who happened to have fallen in love with this program. I suspected it may never be read by a large crowd. I have however found this series of stories most satisfying to write. It was and is a program that begs for more stories...I hope I have done it justice. 

My story, Starman: Lost was full of angst. I knew it would be “dangerous” putting a rift in Scott and Paul’s relationship. I re-watched several episodes of the series to see how Scott met stress. I hoped while taking him to an extreme, I stayed true to his character’s motivations. His life story was about getting left...His dad, mom, foster parents, mom again, and then his wife. The poor kid—and he still is a kid—has had this all thrust upon him. He had no control. This was my chance to have him deal with all that pain. I admit he fell flat on his face. He was very much an eighteen-year-old kid, and made choices in line with his age...stupid ones. _But_ , it is merely a bump in the road. Scott and Paul have grown a bit more.

I also enjoyed giving Jorge Mendoza the role of “angel” in this story. Normally Paul comes into a situation and makes it better. Here it is he and Scott that need help. 

Up next-- I have to get this family back together.


End file.
